


Remainder

by Aurorealis



Series: Hobbit prompt fills [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives Except Bilbo, Bilbo Dies, Community: hobbit_kink, Gen, Ghost Bilbo, Ghosts, Kink Meme, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurorealis/pseuds/Aurorealis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to Bilbo's efforts in the Battle of the Five Armies, the lives of Thorin, Fili, and Kili are spared. He was at peace with falling in their stead. He lived long enough to hear Thorin's apology, and everything was right with the world. </p><p>He wasn't expecting to wake up again on top of his casket as a ghost. Perhaps it was dumb luck, perhaps it was an effect of dying with the ring on his finger, but Bilbo wasn't about to let his chance slide. These dwarves still needed help, and as long as he was capable, Bilbo would oblige them.</p><p>Prompt fill from hobbit_kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20721919#t20721919
> 
> fair warning- this is going to be a shorter one. There's another ghost prompt I want to fill, but I wanted to do this one first. There really should be more fills for ghost!Bilbo. 
> 
> can't promise on update speed, too many fics in progress as it is. Probably shouldn't even be posting this before it's done, but here we are. Also, like most of my prompt fills, this is unedited and unbeta'd. Mistakes are a guarantee.

It had been so quick, but also so slow. Bilbo had torn through masses of goblins and orcs, protected by the ring's invisibility. He was exiled, yes. He was hated by Thorin, yes. But he wasn't about to let anyone die, never mind that fool of a king. 

The problem with invisibility though, was that he had to watch out for ally and foe alike. Already, he had several gashes and bruises from errant strikes. Still, Bilbo pressed forward to where he knew Thorin was fighting. Azog wanted him dead so badly, and would be there himself, probably with his strongest soldiers. That was where Bilbo was needed the most.

And he got there, just in time. He was being surrounded by orcs on all sides. Thorin was fighting three off at once, nearby was Kili and Fili, protecting each other's backs. Their enemies didn't stand a chance against in invisible Bilbo, the pounding adrenaline of battle preventing anyone from noticing orcs and wargs that fell from nothing, Blood splattering out where there was no blade or arrow. 

Bilbo couldn't afford to give his friends much thought, determined as he was to thin the unrelenting horde. And it was working. With less targets to worry about, they were better able to counter an axe strike, better able to twist away from an arrow. 

Then there was Azog. Bilbo would have loved to stab that orc in the eye, to create some kind of opening for Thorin. But he couldn't get near, both of them wildly swinging and parrying. Suddenly, Thorin was struck down, and Bilbo howled even as he slit the neck of an approaching goblin. But miraculously, Thorin was up again, and somehow blocking Azog's massive weapon. 

Thorin finally got the upper hand, striking a killing blow. Bilbo didn't see it, but he did hear the screech of pain that ended in wet gurgles as the Defiler's life seeped out of him. Wildly, Bilbo turned to just catch sight of the pale orc falling to the ground.

Thorin was injured, but not fatally so, and he continued to fight around him. Fili and Kili did not need to rush to their uncle's aid, and they managed to hold their positions. Then the eagles came, and Bilbo knew everything would be okay.

Only, Bilbo had taken the time to assure himself of the Durin line's wellbeing. He was invisible, but that didn't mean he could afford to not pay full attention to his surroundings. Something pushed his back, and Bilbo stumbled forwards even as he whipped around. A goblin had backed into him, and feeling the body, it turned around too. Only instead of just turning, it had its sword arcing out to the invisible disturbance. 

Bilbo saw a flash of silver reflect the sunlight for a single split second. Then there was something ice cold in his gut where it did not belong. The strength flooded out of Bilbo's limbs as a simultaneous wave of agony and numbness overcame him. He saw the clear surprise of the goblin, its blade stuck seemingly in the air, blood rushing down it. An eagle took the goblins life with that same surprise still etched on its face. But Bilbo could only find a little satisfaction from that as a small sigh escaped him and his knees thudded into the bloody ground. 

The movement jostled the sword in his abdomen, and Bilbo seized as even more blood welled out of it. And now he was on his side. It was a curious sight for someone with a dizzy, fading consciousness. To him, his body was lit with translucency, everything still lit in whites and greys from the ring's power. But to everyone else, the sword in his middle would look very curious. Vaguely, he realized this was a good thing. They might be able to find his body if they looked hard enough. 

“Bilbo! Where are you!?” Bilbo's eyes snapped ope again as he heard Thorin calling from him amid the screeches of eagles killing and chasing the remaining orcs and goblins. 

“How do you know he's around here, uncle!? We banished him.” Fili desperately shouted. But that didn't stop Thorin who was frantically scanning around him.

“No, I know he's around here. I heard him yell when I was struck. And I saw orcs being slain from nothing. It could be nothing other than our burglar and his invisibility ring!” 

Fili paled at this, coming to the same realization. “I heard that too, but I thought it a hallucination. Why would Bilbo come back for us when we were so horrible?” 

“Uncle is right. I saw one of them that was aiming an arrow at me get its throat slit. There was no one nearby. It had to be Bilbo.” Now all three of them began shouting for him. Bilbo wanted to call for them, but all he could manage was a weak gasp. Taking off the ring didn't even occur to him- it was the only thing keeping him conscious this long.

“Maybe he's staying invisible? We betrayed him, he probably thinks we want to punish him more.” Kili suggested, voice wavering. Bilbo couldn't see if he was crying, but he hoped that was not the case.

Then a sob did break out, and it wasn't Kili or Fili. It was Thorin. “Bilbo!” He called desperately, voice thick with tears. “I know you're somewhere around here. I know you can hear me. I've been a fool.” The calls of the eagles were growing fainter, and maybe that was why, when Bilbo let out a weak, wet chuckle, three heads perked up. 

“Bilbo, is that you? Take your ring off, please!” 

“I promise we won't hurt you! No one's gold crazy anymore, so please come out! You sound injured.”

From his position on his side, Bilbo saw them approaching. They still didn't know where he was, but they knew where to look. Thorin dropped his knees to the ground a mere few metres from Bilbo, and for a moment, he thought he had been found. But instead, Thorin's head dipped down into a bow. 

“If you don't wish to come out, I can not ask you to. I have no right to ask you to do anything, after you saved us all and yet was betrayed by me. But at least stay to listen to me.” Bilbo nodded, only part of him realizing that no one could see the gesture. Thorin however, took the silence as an agreement as his nephews continued to search frantically. 

“You might not believe my apology, for there is no apology strong enough for what I have done, gold sickness or no.” He paused to take a haggard breath. “There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” 

Bilbo's heart, weighted down ever since he took the arkenstone, lightened even as his life continued to fade. Thorin didn't hate him, forgave him even. A slight feeling of dampness on his cheeks told Bilbo that he was crying, too. There wasn't much left of him now, just a thin thread of life being held in place by the ring. It couldn't hold him together for much longer, but Bilbo managed a smile all the same. 

And then he was gone.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo awakes, and comes to some unsurprising solutions

While Bilbo would admit to a few moments of confusion the next time he awoke, he wasn't an idiot. He did not go around panicking and wondering why no one could see him. No, it took but a few moments for Bilbo to realize that something was very different. And then it only took a second longer to connect it with his memories of a very real death. 

He was immaterial. It was an odd feeling. You never noticed the heaviness of physical existence until it was gone, apparently. Bilbo didn't quite recognize his surroundings, though he did note that he was indoors and most certainly not at the place where he had fallen. Bilbo considered that he might be in a form of afterlife, before ultimately dismissing it when he noticed the object he had awoken on. A coffin, one of human design but freshly crafted and of a smaller size befitting that of a human child. Or a full grown hobbit. 

Bilbo threw himself off of the coffin with a shout, shivering as his arms pushed through the wood, no doubt brushing the body that he didn't want to think was in there. Still, he did float away from it, and Bilbo struggled a bit to figure out his new form. It couldn't move the same way his body moved- by the laws of physical matter. But he seemed to be able to simply will himself in a direction, and after a few minutes of effort managed to plant his feet on the ground. Well, in a sense anyways, since he wasn't actually touching the ground. 

Since he was dead, Bilbo figured there was no harm in exploring. If he had to guess his location, it would be Erebor, but at the same time, he had no idea how long he was “out” so to speak. And Bilbo was very much unwilling to attempt a look at his body to figure it out. 

It did not take Bilbo long to run into his first dwarf. Really, once he had left the hallway connecting the the room his body was in. A stout, rough looking dwarf ran right through him. Bilbo felt a lingering warmth, and watched the dwarf pause briefly to shiver. That was good news, at least Bilbo knew he could have some effect on the world. After all, if he was going to be stuck here, he had better be able to interact or it would be a very miserable afterlife indeed. 

Bilbo knew he was making it all into a big joke entirely to avoid thinking too hard on the reality, but what else could he do? Besides wander some more, of course. 

Eventually, Bilbo found his way to the treasury. There, many dwarves were camped out with little tents and bedrolls. The piles of gold were still extremely disorganized, though there was a modest start at organization in one corner. Then it truly could not have been so long since Bilbo died, since clearing places out for sleeping would have been a priority to avoid being as cramped as they were. 

Bilbo floated over the seas of gold coins and jewels. It did look rather pretty, but Bilbo couldn't help disliking it instinctively now. He had never held a particular love for precious metals or gems, but after what had happened, he had an active dislike. Sighing, Bilbo swung a foot into a particularly large sapphire. Unsurprisingly, his foot passed through without a sound. Annoyed, he attempted to swipe a precariously balanced stack of silver bars. His irritation was no help with his intangibility problem. 

Just about done with treasure, Bilbo crested the pile again and returned to the dwarves packed in the hallways. He made no effort to avoid them, knowing that whatever chills he might give would be excused by the draft. Not that Bilbo could feel a draft, but seeing as the front gates were now unsealed, and everyone had their outerwear on, a breeze seemed likely. 

That, and Bilbo honestly wasn't sure he wanted to remain unnoticed anyways. It was clear enough that he couldn't be seen, but maybe there would be some future way to communicate? A thought for another time, Bilbo supposed. Maybe he could look for Gandalf, because if anyone could properly communicate with him, it would be Gandalf. 

But as Bilbo wandered through the crowds, he was stopped by a different sight. Bombur, Bofur, and Nori were passing out bowls of stew from a cart, wheeling it between rows of tents. Bilbo seized, certain his heart would have skipped a beat. An intense wave of relief and joy washed over him, followed by sadness. He supposed that was what he had actually meant by exploring- finding someone from his company. But he hadn't been prepared for it.

Bilbo was hesitant. He made to put a hand on Bofur's shoulder, but stopped himself. Knowing it wouldn't do any good, Bilbo stood infront of Bombur, staring him in the eye when he lifted a filled bowl from the pot. A hand reached through Bilbo's chest to take it. Not knowing what else to do, but also very unwilling to leave his friends, Bilbo hovered at the end of the cart, eventually willing his form to stick to it like a seat. 

“I shouldn't expect any of you to hear me,” Bilbo began, because he hadn't actually tried speaking to anyone yet. “But just on the off chance, this is Bilbo, and I'm doing okay.” As he expected, there was not so much as a twitch from anyone, though he was speaking loud enough that they should be able to hear him. But they couldn't, so Bilbo shrugged. “Well, doing okay besides dying, of course. Dreadful business, waking up as a ghost. I would not recommend it.” He couldn't help adding. 

The three continued handing out meals until the pots in the cart were fully empty, and Bilbo stayed seated as they pushed it out. Bilbo was at a bit of a loss, but surely seeing the others would help. There was a high probability that the company would still be in heavy communication with each other, if not still staying together. 

Seeing everyone else both helped and did not help. That evening, the trio retired to a small cleared out passageway, first meeting up with Ori and Bifur who had been helping in organizing stuff from what Bilbo could gather. Then Dori came, along with Gloin. After a longer wait, where the mood in the air made Bilbo want to shout in frustration, a harried Balin and Dwalin came rounding the corner. Then the group left as one through another series of passageways while Bilbo tried to keep up.

It was the healer's room, containing Fili, Kili, Thorin, and Oin. With the company finally together, the atmosphere did relax a little, though there was still a thick blanket of distress. And guiltily, Bilbo could guess what it was. 

Sensing the mood, Ori tried to talk about what he had done for the day, prompting Nori and Dori to respond with their duties. Bilbo was surprised to hear that Nori had been out all day with the feeding and clearing of dishes. Balin talked about the supplies he had been cataloguing, while Dwalin gruffly spared a few sentences on the task force he was still trying to set up for clearing rooms. But after that, the speech petered out again. 

This time, Bofur was the one to break the silence. “When did Gandalf say he would come back, again?” he asked quietly. Thorin shifted, and Bilbo was horrified to note that despite his death, Thorin still looked quite injured. 

“He said in a month. There's apparently a lot of fallback from the orcs and goblins. Important wizard duties.” There was an obvious bitterness in his voice, and Bilbo winced. 

“A month!?” Oin blanched. “I thought he had meant one week? The journey is already long, the decaying process-” and here, Oin blanched and shut his mouth with a clack. Some of the dwarves looked sick at the statement, and both Fili and Kili turned their heads away sharply at the statement.

“Gandalf assured me that he took the necessary precautions. Bilbo's body will make it to the Shire whole.” Bilbo yelped and scrambled back. They were talking about him! Just the mention of his dead body had him shuddering in disgust. He took a few seconds to calm himself down again. It was just something Bilbo needed to become accustomed to. So they were taking his body to the Shire, then? That would be a big waste of time and resources, especially when Erebor was in such a delicate state. At the same time though, a flicker of warmth filled him at the notion. Even after all that had happened, they cared enough to lay his body to rest back home. 

There was another lull in the conversation. “I just-” Kili started from nowhere, then cut himself off with a tremble. “Why did it have to be him?” His voice trembled with sobs, and a tight ball of anguish settled in Bilbo's throat at the sight. “We barely even got to make things right after he saved us all, a-and now he's dead.” Kili was now crying in earnest, prompting his brother to join in. “I know, Kili. It's only been a few days, but it feels like longer.” Kili nodded miserably at Fili's words. Bilbo couldn't stop his own tears from sliding down his cheek, though they vanished the moment after dropping from his face, rather than pattering to the floor like the other's.

“You said though, that when- when his body appeared, he was smiling?” Ori tried to comfort hesitantly. “Then he must have been heard the apology, heard you all looking for him, and was happy because of that.” It didn't help, and now Ori was crying to. Then both of his brothers were hugging him, Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin were hugging Fili and Kili. With a flurry of movement, everyone was huddling closer to each other for comfort. Bilbo's heart broke at the sight, and he couldn't help flowing into the group.

“I know you all can't hear me, as much as I would like you to.” Bilbo slowly spoke. The words were more for his benefit, since he could not help his friends. “But I still want to say it out loud, because I never got the chance to. I forgive all of you. I know it was the gold sickness, and while it hurt a lot, knowing that the sickness has left is all I need. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry you all were hurt because of me, though I would sacrifice myself again in a heartbeat.” 

Bilbo wiped the ghostly tears from his eyes, stepping back when he noticed the dwarves trembling with the cold of his presence. “I don't know if I will ever be able to communicate with you all that I'm still here somehow. But if I'm here, it must be for a reason. And if there's a reason, there must be some way for me to do things, other than float around not able to interact with anything. So I promise that I will keep trying.” His heart felt a little lighter from that. Bilbo would keep his word. There must be something in this world that he could do, and Bilbo was determined to find it. 

But first, Bilbo needed some distance. He knew where they were all staying now, and he could visit all he liked. But Bilbo would not accomplish anything by wallowing in grief, which would undoubtedly happen if he stuck around. Bilbo needed a plan, and he knew who to start with. He needed Gandalf.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo discovers that his afterlife both brings him new restrictions, and solves some old ones.

As it turned out, finding Gandalf was impossible. It wasn't that Bilbo had no idea where to look, though it was true that he could be anywhere since all Bilbo knew was that he wasn't in the mountain. No, it was because he was stuck. After a few hours of listening around in case anyone else in the mountain knew of the wizard's location, Bilbo had decided to just take his chances in wandering. 

Except, no sooner had he left Erebor, and travelled down a short distance , Bilbo felt a horrible wrenching in his chest. He was pulled back with a sickening lurch, as if someone had tied a chain around his midsection, then pulled it taut. Then, as soon as the painful sensation had struck, it was gone, not leaving so much as a shiver or tingling in its place. Bilbo looked around him, not seeing anything that could have caused it. Then, with more hesitance, he moved forward again- only to have the same thing happen.

“Now what in the world..?” Bilbo mumbled, inspecting the seemingly innocent stretch of space in front of him. He tried moving to the side, then to the other side. Nothing. He floated up, and also backwards. It felt fine. Then, was there something invisible even to him, blocking the path? Bilbo floated several paces to the left, and tried moving forward again. This time, he did so slowly and so managed to catch the warning signs before having to experience the pain. It felt almost exactly like being at the end of a tightening leash, except over his whole body and centred around his chest. 

Bilbo didn't want to think much about what that implied. So instead, he decided to investigate how far this obstruction spread. Perhaps it was just a large obstacle that somehow repelled ghosts? In which case, enough time should allow Bilbo to circumvent it.

The short answer was that Bilbo was wrong. After an entire day carefully parsing his way around the edge of this boundary, Bilbo found himself on the other side of Erebor, which gave him some clues about what was really going on. He spent the entire next day and a half completing a circuit around Erebor, and tracing the dome in the sky that kept him from flying above anything. It wasn't that something was blocking Bilbo's passage, it was that something was trying him down to Erebor. 

With a fair amount of frustration, Bilbo returned. He studiously avoided his dwarves as he mulled on the problem. What exactly was it that bound him here? It could be that he had a physical tie to his body, or it could also be his emotional tie to the company. It could even be some bond with the spot where he died. There wasn't really an easy way to tell. 

Bilbo wandered the halls, looking for a good place to just sit a while. He only had the one plan- to find Gandalf and see if he could help Bilbo communicate. But that was out of the question, since he couldn't leave, or even send messages. That left Bilbo at square one again, on his own. If only he knew anything at all about the afterlife, or of the supernatural. Any knowledge would have helped.

Perhaps the thought of knowledge was what led him there, but before Bilbo knew it he had entered the library. It was more or less untouched by both the dragon and the new arrivals. It made sense, since Smaug would have no reason to break apart the library and the dwarves had no time to spare right now for books, busy as they were at making the mountain livable again. Everything was coated in dust, and while most of the books were still in place on the shelves, many had fallen to the ground. Most likely from vibrations caused by Smaug's attacks. Occasionally, an entire shelf of books had fallen. Bilbo tried to touch the books, to close them and protect their bindings, but his hand flowed uselessly through the pages. 

It was beyond frustrating. Not only could he not figure out this mess of his after life right now, he couldn't even pick up a book again. Who knew if something here might help his situation? The dwarves were secretive about many things, so perhaps they had some special knowledge of ghosts? Bilbo huffed, as there was no way he could search out and read such things, even if he could pick them up, the vast majority of literature here was probably in Khuzdul. He knew more Khuzdul than most outsiders, but still no more than some basic words that he picked up to communicate with Bifur. But it wasn't enough to hold a full conversation, and he certainly didn't know how to read it. 

Bilbo searched through the library some more. He still wanted to communicate with the others, but he couldn't figure out how to do that. He needed Gandalf, who he couldn't reach. So until Bilbo could find a better plan, he had to wait. Now that he had discovered the library, Bilbo didn't want to wait by hanging over the shoulders of the living all day and night. No, what he needed was a good read. Bilbo looked at another pile of fallen books more carefully. A few had fallen face up rather than face down, brown paper displayed to the world. Being open for so long, the words were nearly faded, but if Bilbo squinted he could see the shapes. Disappointingly, he realized it was Khuzdul.

Bilbo gave the book a withering stare. “Why can't you be in Westron? Stubborn dwarves, insisting everything be a secret.” The ink seemed to quail under his stare, and Bilbo started. There it was again, the ink shimmered on the page, and Bilbo scrambled back from it with a shout. He paused for a moment, regarding the dusty tome with a greater deal of caution. 

“Now, what in the world was that?” Bilbo muttered, creeping back to the open page. The lines were solid and unmoving again, to his relief. They still formed the block like script of the dwarves, and for a moment Bilbo doubted the previous experience. Maybe death played tricks on one's mind? It wouldn't be a surprise. Bilbo glanced at the page again to reassure himself, and that's when he realized what had happened. The words had not changed at all, but their meaning had. He could understand it. 

Bilbo couldn't believe it, and yet it was right there in front of him. All of a sudden, the words leaped out at him. It was a history book, on an old war between dwarf clans. This page talked about some of the more notable tactics employed by the enemy clan, the spy that had been in their midst since before the fighting started. And it wasn't even that the words translated to Westron or even the hobbit langauge. It was fully khuzdul, only somehow Bilbo could read and understand it as if he grew up with it.

He pondered over this for a while, stepping back from the book. He looked at the other books that had fallen open, and the results were the same. Was this some kind of quirk in death? If only he had any kind of knowledge of ghosts, anything that explained why hobbit folk would be given an understanding of Khuzdul in death. 

In the end, there was nothing for it. Bilbo had nowhere to be, and nothing to do while he waited for either Gandalf or a better plan. Really, it didn't matter what reasoning allowed Bilbo to read the secret dwarven language. He accepted it as the gift it was. Upon a second inspectiong, Bilbo discovered that there were actually many books that had fallen open in such a way that Bilbo could read those precious few pages. And so, taking a breather from all of the misery and desperation of the past few days, Bilbo read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone's wondering, the whole being able to read Khuzdul isn't supposed to be a big mystery or anything. I just remember a story somewhere where ghosts were mentioned as being able to understand all languages no matter which ones they knew while living. I like that idea, so I'm using it here.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo spends some more time in the library and learns a few things

The longer Bilbo flitted between the book cases, reading bits of the various open faced books, the better he felt. So he kept at it. He paid little attention to anything in the outside world, until he was rudely interrupted. He no longer felt uncomfortable moving through objects and floating above the ground. At the same time, during his searches for more open books, he had developed a trick that allowed him to walk on the ground like he used to. That helped a lot when he felt his mind delving back into misery.

Bilbo also felt stronger when he didn't dwell on his life as much. He could think about his friends, and think about the shire that he never had the chance to return to, but the more he could keep calm and in control of his emotions, the more Bilbo seemed to fill with energy. Energy which he used to discover the library's secrets, and eventually some of his own.

It happened sometime after Bilbo had discovered how to walk on the ground as in life. That might have been what set it off- the ability to imagine he was touching the ground again. He wasn't sure how long after, it was hard to keep track of time. It started with a twitch of energy flowing through him. This happened occasionally now, enough so that Bilbo ignored it at first. But it kept being insistent, focusing on his toes and fingertips. He stopped reading and gazed suspiciously at his hand. It didn't look different, still the blue-ish haze of translucency that he had grown to accept. 

Bilbo flexed his fingers. A curious sensation passed through them as he did so. It was almost reminiscent of something, and yet Bilbo could not recall ever noticing such a feeling before. So he ignored it and got back to reading. The twitchy feeling went away for a time, before it returned again and more strongly. Frustrated, Bilbo waved his hands around as if he could shake off the distraction. “How annoying!” he complained, glaring. “All I want is to finish this page in peace!” It was actually quite an interesting read on dwarven scientific discoveries. He only had a quarter of the second page left before being done with what was accessible to him. Once again, he wished that he could at least turn the pages. 

The sensation intensified, until Bilbo was desperate to scratch it, even though he knew it couldn't be physical. Besides, he had nothing to scratch it with, because he went through everything, including himself. It had given Bilbo quite the scare the first time he put his own hand through himself. So instead he waved his appendages wildly, certain that if he could be seen he would look insane- not respectable at all. Of course, being a ghost in and of itself was probably the least respectable thing a hobbit could do, except perhaps to go on an adventure. 

Bilbo stopped when he heard a slight noise- a very light whoosh of air. The kind of noise you expected when you waved your arms around like a maniac. But you had to be physical to make air noises from that, and Bilbo knew he hadn't made the air move before- which was why the noise surprised him so. He took his right hand- it tingled the most, and whipped it around his ear in one quick motion. He heard it again, the sound of moving air. But his hand would have to actually be taking up space for that to happen. 

He stared blankly for a while into space. Did that mean what he thought it meant? The feeling stopped just as he considered testing that theory. Experimentally, he pushed a single fingertip into the nearest shelf, just in case. As expected, the digit passed through dust and wood. Bilbo sighed. There wasn't much use in hoping, but now a measure of hope had been raised. He would have to wait until the next time the curious sensation decided to visit. 

As he waited, Bilbo was both sad and excited. He was desperate at the prospect of being able to interact with the world, but it was desperation built equally from the hope of speaking to his friends and the distress from how they might handle it. He wouldn't be surprised if they would be disbelieving, perhaps thinking themselves as crazy. It was probably these conflicting emotions that stopped the sensation from returning- as it only ever did happen when Bilbo was calm or occupied by less intense emotions. 

Eventually though, it did return and Bilbo did not waste time. As soon as it felt as strong as it had before, Bilbo swiped at the nearest shelf. He heard the light patting noise of flesh tapping against wood first. Then he felt it for the shortest moment- the texture of dusty, grainy wood against his skin. Just as his heart leapt, the feeling was gone and his fingers glided through the surface. But he knew what had happened. 

Just to confirm, Bilbo observed the spot he had touched. Sure enough, there were three light smudges in the dust, from where his fingers had made contact and pushed the dust to the side. Bilbo grinned. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. There's a point to me being here, after all!” Bilbo couldn't help himself, he stood back and began dancing around the empty library. He could touch things! He could turn the pages, he could move things, maybe he could even pick up a quill one day!

The thought made him giddy. If he could pick up a quill, he could write a message. He'd be able to pick it up and take it to his friends. They might think it a prank at first, but then he could try writing it in front of them. If they saw the quill move in midair, held by an invisible hand, they'd have to believe him. 

But Bilbo was getting ahead of himself. He calmed down and sat in the air, legs crossed. All he had really done was touch a bookshelf, and even then only for a second. And he had confirmed it only happened when that twitchy feeling took over his hands. He couldn't control it at all, and it only lasted for a short while when it did show up. Bilbo was a long way off from doing anything so grand. Sure, he could probably knock some things off some shelves, but that wasn't likely to tell the company anything, except perhaps of the existence of some form of spirit. And while Bilbo was a form of spirit, it wouldn't do him any good if they didn't know it was specifically him. He'd just end up scaring the pants off of anyone who noticed his actions.

And so, despite the great revelation that he really could touch things, Bilbo did not leave the library, or look for the company. His friends would have to stay strong for a little longer, at least until Bilbo had a better handle on it. Bilbo's return to the books was almost like the first time he had thought to read them, except for one key difference. Now, he was waiting for strange things to occur. He knew he could expect at least the touching thing, and maybe other things too. He knew how to maximize the chances of them happening, and did so as much as he could. Whenever the feeling did return, Bilbo immediately set to turning the pages of all his favourite finds, rushing through the various memorized locations. The more often it happened, the longer he could keep it up, but he was still a long ways away from actually controlling the ability. 

It was shortly after his touch returned yet again, leaving not a minute later, when a loud jarring noise echoed through the library. Bilbo looked up from the philosophy paper he was looking through. It was easy work to fly to the source, as by now he had gotten a better handle on movement in this form. There was a sound again, before he managed to reach the origin. It was different, instead of a banging noise, it was a heavy scraping noise. He reached the entrance of the library just in time to discover that the heavy doors were being opened by two dwarves. Behind the two were a small group of about five dwarves. Bilbo supposed that they were here to clean up and eventually restore the library, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. Surely they had much more pressing matters, such as making livable dwellings. For goodness sake, they could at least wait until they weren't camping out in the overcrowded front halls! And this was coming from an avid fan of literature. 

And yet, the dwarves entered further into the library. All of them looked rather awestruck, a few whistled appreciatively. “Wow, it's almost untouched. Except for the dust and time, of course.” 

“Maybe books are so beneath dragons that they can't even be bothered destroying them?” One dwarf joked lightly, earning a few chuckles from his peers. Bilbo fumed, despite having had similar thoughts not long ago. Here they were, invading his private escape, joking about the dragon that is the reason they still don't have actual homes to sleep in. That sort of thing didn't just change over the course of a few days, which was about how long Bilbo had been hidden away. Sure, they had Erebor again, but it would take time for them to rebuild their homes and restructure their lives. 

“You're probably right, Smaug probably thought it was too much work to bother. Still, so much of Erebor was in ruins when we got here, it's weird to uncover a new part of the city that isn't destroyed.”

His irritation mounted. The nerve! “Don't you lot have more important things to do?” Bilbo scolded. The group flinched all at once. 

“What was that!?”

“Did you hear something?”

“Yeah, something whispered, but I couldn't..”

“The library's haunted!”

In much less time than it took them to arrive, the group of dwarves had left, scrambling away like a fire was lit under them. Bilbo snorted, amused at their cowardice. Then he froze. They had heard him. They had heard it as a whisper, but they had heard him!

Bilbo whooped loudly, and then quieted. How had he done it? This was far beyond being able to flip a page! And yet, it was useless if he couldn't reproduce the effect. There had been no tell tale itchiness, and he hadn't even been in particular control over his emotions. Bilbo wasn't exactly frothing with anger, but he was kind of mad. He wasn't sure if that was a fluke, or if perhaps he aught to make himself more annoyed.

In any case, Bilbo wouldn't even be able to practice in the first place if he were alone. There wasn't a way to tell if it worked or not, since either way Bilbo could hear himself just fine. He looked to the doors that had been left wide open, and down the empty corridor. There was nothing for it, so Bilbo set off down the hall, walking along the ground like a mortal. 

It took less time than Bilbo would have thought to start seeing dwarves. And to his surprise, they weren't dressed in the muddy, travel worn clothes he saw in the great hall. They didn't look tired and exhausted despite the excitement of regaining their home. No, these dwarves looked normal, as if they had never been uprooted in the first place. Bilbo was dumbstruck- did dwarves really adjust that quickly?

He gave up on the ground and floated to pick up speed. As he flew into wider halls, he discovered a market, of all things! Quite a few merchants were selling wares, and even more customers were milling about. How could they set up shop so soon? Surely every hand was needed to clear out living space. Even if all the men of Laketown helped, Bilbo doubted enough homes could have been restored in the few days since Bilbo had found the library. He'd seen the residential areas first hand, it had been thoroughly demolished. 

There was something that Bilbo wasn't getting. He decided to check in on said residential district. Of course, Bilbo had never been too familiar with Erebor so he got fairly lost. Every wrong turn he made showed dwarves working and walking and talking. As he looked around, he was reassured to see heavy construction, but at the same time baffled. The walls and walkways were no doubt important, but Bilbo couldn't help but worry- if they weren't working on homes then they were all still effectively homeless.

Finally, he stumbled across what he was looking for. His jaw dropped. It wasn't crushed rock and rubble that greeted Bilbo, but row upon row of freshly built homes. There was still a great deal of dwarves working away at additional units, but as Bilbo flew down the great long path, peeking down each fork that broke off, he saw that the impossible had happened. There was just no way this could have been done. Bilbo couldn't believe his eyes. There was definitely something big that Bilbo was missing. The only thing he could think of was either magic, or perhaps all the men of Laketown AND the elves of Mirkwood. But even now, Bilbo doubted the dwarves would have accepted elven aid, and the men would have their hands full planning the return of Dale. And it couldn't have been magic because the only one who had the motive and possibly the capability was Gandalf, and he had just left. 

Desperately, Bilbo flew into one of the dwellings to check for some kind of clue. There wasn't much there, it was clear the owners had moved in recently. At the same time, there were enough things set out that they had been living there for at least a few days. There was food in the food storage and belongings on the shelf, even if there was only a few dishes for cooking. Then, Bilbo turned to one of the walls and saw it.

During the quest, Ori had shown Bilbo how to write the day's date in Khuzdul. Dori had scolded, Nori had laughed, and the rest of the company had been vaguely disapproving. In the end though, no one minded Bilbo learning something so simple, and he had been curious since Ori was always diligent in marking the date each time he wrote something. And that date that Bilbo saw written on a make-shift calender on the wall did not show the day Bilbo was expecting. Apparently, he hadn't been in the library for a few days, but rather a whole month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow I don't think ghosts could ever have a good sense of time. They don't really sense the world like we do, they have no need for any kind of internal clock. They also don't get tired at all so if something is distracting enough I could see the time just fly past for them.


End file.
